


If I Had My Way

by hid4n



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Consensual Violence, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Sexual Violence, Violence, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1404532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hid4n/pseuds/hid4n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only so much of Virus's bitching that Trip can stand...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The current tags are for later on in the story.
> 
> This is before re:connect. My headcanon is that Trip is 19-22 – that would make Virus 25-28, for any of the people who aren't sure.

Work was always boring nowadays. Nothing happened out of the ordinary, leaving all of the tasks to the underlings beneath the head yakuzas. Deliveries, patrolling, exchanges... most things were tasks for lower ranked people anyway. It wasn't like they had any scarcity in men – gangs almost always had a constant flow of people inward. No one really left. Occasionally, there would be an 'accident' with the gang members, but it was never investigated. No one cared to investigate it. Who cared if a simple delinquent died? The kumichō sure as hell didn't. Needless to say, said kumichō had a tendency to keep their hands clean of blood unless absolutely necessary. That included poking their nose into member-on-member scuffles.

It was starting to grow darker in the Old Resident District. Granted, Morphine's turf was quite large and spanned all the way over where Dry Juice's territory had been and then some, but the sun was setting on every part of the small portion of island that was still inhabited outside of Platinum Jail. Activity was on the low side – everyone seemed to settle down right before the sun finally set. Immediately afterwards, though, that was when all the activity would occur. It didn't matter though – the work day was almost over for the young yakuza leaning against the brick wall, his white dress shirt collecting dirt as he carelessly picked at his teeth with a toothpick.

Trip had only been up against the wall for a few minutes when some underlings passed by, muttering about something. His sharp blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but his fingers didn't stop maneuvering his toothpick skillfully. The group of men were visibly disturbed by his look and quickened their paces, scooting by him as sweat began to prickle at their hairlines. Trip often didn't have to say anything – speech wasn't really his thing. Virus handled situations that required excessive amounts of dialogue. Trip preferred to handle things in other ways.

Once the backs of the men had turned the corner of another alleyway, Trip slowly closed his eyes. His fingers froze around the thin, wooden stick, holding it between his last incisor on the right and his canine. Today had been boring, that was true; but that didn't change the fact that it was also stressful. Just like the man who was mistaken as his twin, Trip didn't allow his emotions to cross his face very often. Emotions equaled weakness – they were a crack in a person's armor, and left them open for attacks. Even though he was young, Trip knew this well. He had known it for a long time, it seemed, and was slowly perfecting his ability to hide anything emotional that could be deemed "not beneficial" in the back corners of his mind. Even when he was alone, he often had a hard time pulling his emotions out and dealing with them. He always assumed it was just how he was – no need to get childish over it.

Stress. It wasn't something that was easy for Trip to describe... or even feel. He very rarely succumbed to it. Virus was much more susceptible to it. Sometimes, when he was younger, Trip would get curious as to why Virus would thread his fingers through his beautiful blonde hair and tighten his fists. When he asked what was wrong, Virus always shot him a sideways glare and said he was busy. Some numbers weren't matching up and he was stressed about it. Trip would stand there with a blank expression before nodding and walking away.

That was long before they had obtained the status they now had. Virus was such a nerd – he still was a nerd. It only made sense that he was used for number calculations and things like that. Trip was more of a bodyguard type of guy, although he would have taken whatever job was offered to him. Even so, Virus was given those types of jobs... they stressed him out often, so Trip learned to avoid him when he was under pressure. He didn't like it. Virus had a bad tendency to emotionally lash out at the nearest body when he had had enough. While Trip was more than capable of taking physical hits, the emotional ones were the ones that really hurt him.

Suddenly, as if he had just remembered where he was, Trip twirled the toothpick between his teeth, trying to relax his jaw. It had been tightening since he first thought about the pressure he had dealt with today. The pressure that came from working... with Virus.

There was no lack of reasons to be tense when he worked alongside that man. Ever since that day – years and years ago – when he had first spotted Virus, Trip had thought the damn sun had shined out of his stupid ass. He wasn't sure why – he wasn't sure how. He just knew that it was something that had happened and he couldn't shake it. He would have been more bothered if he could consider their relationship one that "depended" on each other, but it was not. Trip was not weak. He didn't depend on anyone. He only tagged along with Virus. He was the light at the end of the tunnel where everyone else was the scum on the bottom of his jet-black boots. There was admiration for the natural blond, but that was all it was.

With his constant trailing after Virus, though, Trip was often the target of the older man's irritation. Sometimes, Virus blew up on him, asking him why he didn't just find someone else to burden. Trip always recoiled for some time before returning to Virus's side, hoping that the other had calmed down. And he always had – never had Virus sent him away twice. But Virus never ceased to stop sending Trip away entirely. Some months, it happened more often than not. Other months, he rarely blew up on his counterpart. Trip just fell into a rhythm and soon got used to the rages that seemed to appear out of nowhere from Virus. He knew that they were all temporary, and that Virus rarely meant the things he said. When he returned to the visually impaired man's side, all was forgotten and they went on their merry way.

Trip guessed it was mostly his fault at this point, anyway. He allowed all of it to happen – never once did he retaliate. He allowed Virus to step all over him like he was some sort of walking welcome mat. It had never really been an issue though... but sometimes Virus just got so arrogant, so domineering... it pissed Trip off. He was a person too, not just some puppy that followed Virus around because he had nothing better to do. Sometimes he was under the impression that that was the image Virus had of him, and it irked him to no end. He didn't mind other people seeing him that way – they were outsiders and there was no possible way they could see the harmonious relationship the two men had – but Virus should see him as an equal.

With a sudden rise of temperature in his body and an influx of stimuli to his muscles, Trip's hand jerked and the toothpick was driven up in-between two of his teeth, cutting his gingiva. He didn't flinch though; pulling the bloodied sliver of wood from his mouth, he slid his tongue over the fresh wound, tasting the warm, metallic liquid. It spread eagerly over his tongue and idly, Trip rubbed it over the roof of his mouth as he lazily stared at the toothpick between his thumb and forefinger. There was a tiny droplet of blood that was beginning to dribble along the length of the stick, a brilliant red contrasting against the pale shade of the wood.

Watching as the bead of maroon slowly descended to the tip of his toothpick, the blond man felt time drag on unbearably slow. The cut in his mouth slowly stopped bleeding, he assumed, from the lack of saliva that tasted vaguely of iron. When the single globule of blood finally dripped from his toothpick, Trip flicked it away and slowly eased himself away from the brick wall he had been leaning on for some time now. He had more important things to do than reflect on life like a mourning widow. Namely, there were still some things he had to do before the work day was completely over, and he might as well do them with the fading rays of light the sun was casting over Midorijima. With stiff shoulders, Trip glanced to the sky, shoving his hands in his pockets, and started to make his way back to the headquarters.


	2. Chapter 2

Day in and day out, Trip did as he was told. Never once did he talk back when he was given instructions to find men who owed Morphine money or goods. Never once did he scoff when he was told to deal with a scuffle within the yakuza itself. Never once did he flinch when Virus looked up into his altered eyes and gave him that disapproving look of disgust, ordering him to get out of his face. Obediently, Trip would slink away and do as he was told, taking care of his daily tasks like a compliant dog.

That was, of course, emotionally. Trip never flinched, never showed a single sign of submission to Virus when the shorter male was hissing in his face. He would turn stiffly and walk away with his hands shoved in his pockets, a stoic look to his facial features as he left Virus to his own devices. Maybe that was where he failed as a counterpart? The way his jaw set, the coldness in his eyes – it could have been the reason Virus felt the need to get in his face all the damn time. Maybe it was completely Trip's fault... but never once did he rebel against the authority Virus held over him, whether physically or emotionally. He was as devoted as a rescued stray, forever bound to Virus by an invisible string that kept him from wandering too far away.

This specific week had been particularly unbearable to Trip. Virus was, for lack of a better phrase, going on a rampage with his spouts to the younger man. At first, Trip took it in stride like he always had – there was no real reason to get huffy over something so minute. But it became apparent in his eyes that Virus was exceptionally bad as the later weekdays dragged on. He never failed to catch Trip when it seemed like the latter was doing hardly a thing, when in fact, he had just been pausing in his tasks to recalculate his methods. Each and every time, Virus lit into Trip like it was his job to scold the larger man. Like anything else, Trip batted it away with a blink of his eye at first, but soon it started to wear down on him. As the confrontations piled high, Trip's jaw grew more and more rigid and he found his hands curling into tight fists in his pockets as he took the verbal beatings Virus gave him without a single word.

With just one more hour left of his work day, Trip tried desperately to look at the bright side of things. It wasn't something that he usually did – he never had a need to do so – but today it was a necessity. Virus had taken a bite of him and tore at him emotionally countless times in the past few hours – too many to count – and he was feeling the full effects of it now. A pale hand raised to toy with his bangs, shifting the hair out of his face over and over, as if it would move back into his line of sight if he didn't do so. That had become a habit of his over the years – touching his hair for various reasons. Virus hated it – if Trip so much as walked past him with his hand near the older male's hair, Virus would flinch violently and glare at Trip's back. It became a mutual understanding between the two that Virus's hair was not to be touched. It was a hard thing to resist for Trip, who touched his own hair constantly, but he eventually came to terms with it and stopped any questionable actions that would make Virus apprehensive.

Slowly, Trip's hand fell from playing with his fringe and slid into his pocket, his stance returning to that which was typical for him. Had Virus always treated him this awfully? He couldn't quite remember... this felt like the usual, but at the same time, it felt so bizarre. Trip felt like he was losing his grip on reality and set his jaw roughly, grinding his teeth together. He could hear the awful noise in his ears and tried to calm himself, but came to the conclusion that he couldn't with just a snap of his fingers. He needed something else... Flaring his nostrils as he came to a conclusion, Trip straightened his back and staggered away from the direction of their headquarters.

Fifteen minutes later, the young yakuza was flopped in a cheap, foldable chair, located in the far corner of a sweets shop along the main street of the Old Resident District. There was plastic fork hanging from between his lips, being bent to his whims as his fingers played with it idly. A slice of white cake was laying on its side on a paper plate, half-eaten. Similarly, the stem of a single strawberry was tossed on the table, having been eaten the moment Trip set himself down in his seat. Shifting the plastic fork to the right side of his mouth, he poked his tongue out and ran it over his lips, catching a bit of icing he had smeared on himself accidentally. There was nothing better than sweets to help clear someone's mind – at least, that's how Trip thought. Plucking the fork from between his molars and twisting it lazily, the blond man peered at what was left of his cake, pondering how he should eat it. Icing first? Or should he eat the breading and save the best for last? Trip furrowed his brow – this was obviously a very important decision.

While poising his fork to cut the frosting away from the rest of the cake, the door opened with a sort of flourish that Trip hadn't heard the entire time he was relaxing in the parlor. His mind immediately flashed to the short conversation – one-sided, but it was still a conversation – he had with the man behind the counter. The balding man had noted how Trip wasn't a regular – all of his regulars had already come in for the day and gotten their usual sweets. Anyone who came in after a certain time in the day, he knew without question, was someone who didn't normally come into his shop. The memory of that chat sunk into his bones and caused Trip to stiffen, but he refused to turn and look in the direction of the door as the tiny bell overhanging it tinkled quietly.

There was an awkward silence that overcame the small shop – usually there was the quiet whirring of machinery in the back, way beyond the counter, but for some reason, Trip could no longer hear it. There was the quiet tapping of shoes on the ceramic tiles and the young yakuza could swear that he knew that stride from any other in the world. It was a slow, casual stride – one that gave off an air of control and demanded attention. _Shit..._ Trip swallowed the saliva that had begun to accumulate in the back of throat from the taste of the cake he had eaten a few minutes ago and somehow knew that he was screwed. No... he was fucked.

Trip wasn't afraid – goodness, no. Fear was for weak individuals that had nothing left to believe in, whether it be their God, their own abilities, or some other obscure being. Trip was more than capable and could hold his own in any situation – or so he liked to believe. Never once had he been confronted with a conflict that he couldn't solve one way or another. Thus, he rarely experienced the emotion others called "fear". It just wasn't very native to him – it sure as hell wasn't revelant right now.

It would have been completely pointless to turn around. The slow, calculating stride that he could hear even without straining his ears was headed straight for him; the store wasn't very large and whoever was approaching him would be there momentarily. Why waste his energy? Closing his blue eyes slowly so that his light eyelashes brushed against the tops of his cheeks, Trip let a very faint smirk play on his thin lips. No, he wasn't afraid. He could easily guess what this was about – it was the same thing that he had been enduring all day. The entire week, even. So once more wasn't anything to be surprised about, especially when he had to work with the man day in and day out. A leisurely inhale through his nostrils gathered a whiff of an exotic type of mint that Trip had never smelled on anyone before – except, of course, Virus.

The familiar shadow fell over him quite suddenly, darkening the shade of his cake and making Trip scowl in displeasure. Leave it to Virus to ruin his good time.

"What?" Trip said in a nonchalant tone without bothering to look over his shoulder. He could imagine Virus's expression perfectly. He might as well be psychic or something – he knew Virus had that disgusted look on his face, like Trip was nothing but a failure. His entire life was a waste of space and he could never do anything right, let alone do anything according to Virus's standards. It had always been like that, hadn't it?... Trip began to roughly set his jaw, the plastic fork still in his hand as his fingers clenching ever so slightly.

"We need to talk," Virus offered in a calm tone, although Trip could see through it like a window. Virus wasn't happy... but then again, when was he happy with anything Trip did? There was a drawn out silence that the younger of the two refused to break for some time. Eventually, his eyes slowly opened and looked at the fork in his hand, refusing to look up.

"Like hell we do," He retorted, his temper boiling just below the surface of his skin. He very rarely got angry – at least, at Virus – but he was so tired, so damn tired of all of this cat and mouse play. If anything, he should be the cat, not Virus...! Suddenly, Trip stopped his train of thought and frowned. Did that mean he thought less of Virus than he had before? When had everything started to fall down? Was it something he could have prevented...?

"I'm serious, Trip. I'd like to speak with you... in private, please." That sickeningly polite tone with a seriously sharp edge beneath the surface interrupted Trip's inner monologue and he internally flinched. What could be so important as to prompt Virus to hunt Trip down all the way to the center of the Old Resident District? With nothing coming to mind, Trip felt his jaw shift ever so slightly, his teeth grinding together with what felt like enough force to break his incisors.

"I haven't finished my cake yet," Trip said stiffly, his tone giving no obvious indication that he would move until he did finish his food. He spoke neither loudly or quietly – his voice was well-controlled like nothing was wrong. After his words sunk in, though, he could feel Virus's stare at the nape of his neck and he was vaguely glad that he hadn't turned to face the older yakuza. He didn't want to have to redirect that glare elsewhere while juggling half-assed thoughts in his head. Anyone who knew Trip was aware of his lacking ability when it came to conversations – trying to do that and figure out just what the hell he was thinking about would surely end badly. He frowned at the cake before him, still feeling the searing heat of Virus's gaze. He wanted him to go away, to leave him alone with his cake, but that was too much to ask for apparently.

"We need to talk." Virus repeated, his tone firmer this time. Unfortunately, though, it had no effect on Trip and he didn't so much as flinch when he heard the hardening of Virus's dialogue. As if to make a show of things, Trip shrugged lazily. Leaning forward, he cut and scooped a piece of his cake up with one fluid motion and brought it to his lips. Just as he was about to eat it, though, something gripped his shoulder, surprising him. With a bit of luck, Trip was able to catch the small piece of cake on his tongue as it tumbled from his fork. His jaw closed with a snap, audible in the silent parlor. Abruptly turning to glare at Virus, who had Trip's shoulder under his hand, the bottle-blond growled around his cake.

"I said, I'm not done eating. Leave me alone, Virus." There had been hardly any venom in his tone until now. With his jaw strained and the skin taunt over his cheeks, Trip made his displeasure in Virus's sudden appearance, as well as his intentions, painfully obvious. The sweetness of the cake in his mouth seemed to drain away and was replaced with a bitterness that made Trip want to vomit. Virus had successfully drained away all the good of his visit to the cake shop – he would have to applaud that older yakuza for that. The longer he sat here with Virus hovering over him, the more he wanted to punch him.

"I don't care. I said we need to talk," Trip wanted to snarl in response to Virus's bland tone. He felt the strong, childish urge to take his cake and throw it at Virus – anything to get the asshole out of his sight. All he had wanted was a relaxing break from work – it wasn't even that long and Virus had taken his own fair share of breaks in the past. So why was he heckling Trip so badly right now? The tiny hairs on the nape of his neck prickled and Trip felt his skin breaking out in a slight sweat, further suggesting the adrenaline he was feeling from this confrontation, although it was anything but physical at this point. No need for fight or flight... yet.

"I heard you the first seven times." The piece of cake was being broken down a bit with the enzymes in his saliva, but that was the extent of it. Trip moved it from side to side with his tongue like it was scalding hot, toying with it. The fact of the matter was his distaste for Virus right now – he wouldn't be able to enjoy his sweets until his partner left the shop, and thus it'd be a complete waste for him to try and indulge right now. As the icing of the cake melted in his mouth and smeared over his tongue and the inside of his cheeks, Trip continued to offer Virus a venomous glare that wasn't close to faltering. He wasn't so easily discouraged – Virus of all people should know that the best.

There was a short, displeased sigh – surprise, Virus wasn't happy in the least – but Trip didn't bat an eyelash. If he could irritate the other within an inch of his wits, then Trip would finally be happy, but until then... The hand that had been wrapped, now loosely, around the younger male's shoulder quickly slid down the length of Trip's arm and wrapped around his wrist in an unexpectedly strong grip. It was unforeseen, and while Trip was trying to decipher Virus's actions and the meaning behind them, he was roughly jerked from his chair. His blue eyes widened and he stumbled out of the chair – f-fuck. He knew that Virus had some strength, but when had the asshole been able to push him around? Trip just barely caught his footing before he fell flat on his face, his boots scuffling against the ceramic tiles and a low hiss of surprise escaping from the pit of his throat.

"We're going. Come now, Trip." There was no emotion in those words, and that might have been what pissed Trip off the most. Or maybe it was the way Virus said his name... like Trip was so much less than himself. A child at best – and an insect at worst. If there was one thing Trip hated, it was belittling through tones of voice. He had always took the pet peeve in stride – assuming that his distaste for it came from the fact that he couldn't very well read between the lines of people's words and therefore, was vulnerable when it came to disguised verbal attacks. Maybe there was something deeper, and maybe there wasn't. All Trip knew was that he hated it with every fiber of his being, causing a spark to flicker behind his eyes as he slowly straightened up from his stumbled position.

Suddenly, Trip became aware of the fact that they were still in the tiny cake shop, and his blue eyelids fluttered while he glanced back at the counter. The man that had served him wasn't there – he must have slipped in the back when he saw that things were getting heated between him and Virus. Well... Trip snorted internally and jerked his arm out of Virus's grasp, turning to pick up his plate and push the last of the cake into his mouth as he brushed past Virus with a stiff stride.

"Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The point of the previous chapters was to explain the situation thus far, as well as explain Trip's unusually quick temper in this chapter. Hopefully you can sympathize with his situation! (￣ω￣;)

Maybe the worst of it all was how Trip knew it was coming the entire time. He had been constantly plagued by the heavy, itching feeling of anticipation, but had hardly noticed it very much until he strode ahead of Virus, licking the last of the icing from his lips with a bored expression on his face. The main street of the Old Resident District was deathly quiet – there were few individuals wandering the sidewalk save for Virus and Trip – but that didn't explain the nagging feeling under his skin. Trip was sure that Virus had some sort of placing for their little chat in mind, but as he kept walking, the blond behind him stayed silent. All he could hear was the casual step of his shoes and the occasional, nearly silent rustle of his slacks as he kept up with Trip's pre-determined pace. It was a familiar sound, but it didn't offer the younger of the two any amenity.  
  
Once he had wandered a significant distance from the cake shop, with Virus still quietly following behind him, Trip felt his irritation bubble. Was this a joke? If Virus was just fucking with him...  
  
"This'll be fine," Suddenly, Virus's clear voice cut the silence that had begun to stretch out across the main street. It was as if the natural blond could sense Trip's impending outburst, but the latter knew that that couldn't possibly be true. With a quick readjustment of his facial features to sport a less emotionally taxed expression, Trip turned with one of his eyebrows arched in question. Virus didn't answer him immediately and Trip responded to the silence by pushing his hands deeper into his pockets – something similar to a nervous twitch for him, although it didn't exactly suggest such a feeling in him.  
  
"Oh?" When Virus still didn't offer any sort of explanation, Trip prompted him with a slight vibration from his vocal cords, his voice like a low purr – unfortunately, his mood was anything but purr-worthy.  
  
"Here— it'll do," Blinking slowly in response, Trip watched as Virus turned and slipped down a narrow alley. It was much darker than the streets, which were also beginning to plummet into darkness, and was casting an eerie shadow onto the cracked sidewalk. He couldn't help but look down at the shadow, watching it shift ever so slightly – were shadows supposed to do that? Trip furrowed his brow ever so slightly and looked up, back into the alley, but didn't see anything moving a significant amount. With one more glance to the shivering shadow, Trip internally shrugged and crossed the threshold of darkness, following behind Virus with a good amount of space between the two.

The two pairs of footsteps echoed off the sweating walls of the buildings on either side of the two men for what felt like forever when Virus abruptly stopped. He didn't turn around at first, and Trip rolled his eyes, careful to watch for any movement from Virus – the last thing he needed was the older man to turn and see the tail end of his gesture. He was going to get enough heat from Virus as it was... he didn't want to encourage any more.  
  
"Do you know what happened to our statistics today, Trip?" Virus said quietly without turning around, undoubtably encouraging a questioning look from the younger male. It was a strange question – but no, Trip didn't know. He hadn't checked his Coil for any numbers since a few hours ago... it was around the time Virus had last scolded him for 'fooling around at work'. Pursing his lips as he thought back, Trip didn't recall anything that was unusual about the digits he had seen then. Had something happened between then and now? Trip set his jaw slowly, feeling himself fill with anticipation. He felt the sudden urge to check his Coil, but he had a feeling that Virus was going to tell him what was going on soon enough.  
  
"I'll take your silence as a no, then," Ah, right. Trip had been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he had forgotten to provide Virus with a verbal answer. He dipped his head slightly, with his neck arched so he could see the older yakuza with one eye trained carefully.  
  
"No, I don't know what happened... I haven't checked them in a few hours." Trip murmured his words without emotion, although he felt sort of guilty for not keeping a better watch on them. Overall, it wasn't his job as much as it was Virus's, but they sort of agreed that they would watch each others' backs when it came to their individual tasks. It didn't happen often that Trip caught something that Virus didn't, but it did happen occasionally, and those moments made their agreement worth all of the stress of having – or rather, the sense of having – two jobs.  
  
"That's a shame... really, it is." The way Virus was speaking was making the tiny hairs on the nape of Trip's neck stand on end and he wanted it to stop. There was a cold, sickly feeling seeping through his skin, his muscles, his bones... It felt like it was sinking deeper within him as the moments dragged on. Without realizing it, Trip staggered his feet a bit, his blue eyes trained on his counterpart while he waited impatiently for what the point of this encounter was. Virus had been facing away from Trip the entire time they had spoken thus far, but slowly, his arm twitched, and he began to turn, his head tilting as he met eyes with Trip.  
  
"They collapsed around seven this evening. After a while of investigating, it came to my attention that there was a slip up of money, and that it had been moved elsewhere..." Virus was now completely facing Trip, his face as impassive as ever while still holding steady eye contact. The natural blond paused here, though, and Trip squared his shoulders a bit under the sharp gaze of his partner. And... ? There were occurrences that called for the shifting of money, albeit not often, and the transfers could be done quickly enough if—  
  
Then it hit Trip. _Hard_. Virus didn't bring him here just to chat... he wasn't simply telling Trip this, or even asking for his opinion on the matter... Virus was accusing him of embezzling money from Morphine.  
  
It wasn't something that was easy for him to comprehend at first. It was like Trip was grasping at empty air with transparent hands as he struggled to come to terms with what exactly was going on. It took longer than he would have liked – the entire time, he sat there with a firm, unmoving expression and, to be honest, he was probably further incriminating himself as Virus watched for some sort of reaction.  
  
"Are you serious right now?" Trip managed to force past his strangulated throat. At some point it had closed up painfully – possibly when he first realized what Virus was saying – and it was filling him with a searing pain as he tried to swallow the lack of saliva in his mouth. Virus looked surprised at Trip's expression, although it wouldn't surprise the bottle-blond if it was all a show. Virus liked playing with people too much – they both did... but it was different when.. it was Trip...  
  
"Of course I am. We're missing quite a bit of money, enough to be a cause for concern," Virus responded in a matter-of-fact tone. He was being a smart-ass. Trip didn't doubt that they were missing money – it happened sometimes, people got into the system. He was talking about this bullshit accusation ...!  
  
"Stop playing dumb. You know what I mean..." Trip was struggling to keep his voice from converting to a low growl, but... it was working for now. He couldn't believe this. How long had he and Virus been together? Too long for the latter to be accusing him of stealing money from their own organization! Setting his jaw and grinding his teeth together to keep himself from spitting harsh words in Virus's direction, Trip wondered how long he could last without punching Virus unconscious. He couldn't even answer that question with very much confidence – his hands were shaking, but thankfully, they were still stuffed in his pockets, hidden from view.  
  
Suddenly, a thought rose to Trip's mind. It was no news to anyone who knew the pair that Trip was the more physically fit one and he could easily pack a nasty punch – he had proved this time and time again in certain situations – while Virus was the more intellectually stable one. If anyone knew this better than the people who worked with the two men on a daily basis, it was themselves. Virus had lured Trip into this back alley and was ... apparently... completely confident that Trip wouldn't lay a finger on him. He had predicted Trip's actions, no doubt. Suddenly feeling himself fill with a throbbing red anger, Trip didn't care about what predictions Virus made. If he was so confident that this encounter would go according to his plans, then...  
  
"I have no other reason to rule you out," Virus interrupted Trip's dragging thoughts, his face still bland as he gave a weak shrug, as if to emphasis the helplessness of his situation. "Not very many people have access to the information required to move money around, and you're the most likely of all of the people on the list that do have the informat—"  
  
"Likely to _what_?" Growled Trip, just able to stop himself from snarling the words with his unbearably heavy tongue. His jaw was set so tight, he felt a dull, throbbing ache in one side of the joints, screaming at him to release the bite he held so vehemently, but he ignored the discomfort.  
  
"... Mmm. Do I really need to say it, Trip? By your stature and the alignment of your jaw, I can tell you've caught on to what I mean." Always so calculating, so precise with his words. That was something that Trip used to admire about Virus, but now he was coming to despise it just as much as that ugly, shit-eating smirk that he got sometim— there it was. It was a tiny little thing – just the very corners of Virus's lips were pulling upward, as if it was just a malfunction of a well behaved robot, but Trip knew Virus was anything but that.  
  
"You know that's bullshit, Virus. I haven't touched any of the funds since the last transaction... and that was – shit – two weeks ago?" Trip's words tumbled from his mouth as he attempted to calm himself down before he did something he would regret in the end. But would he really regret lashing out at Virus? He would just be doing the same thing that the older yakuza had been for a long time, but instead of words, he'd be using his fists. Was that so wrong? Digging the nails of his right hand into his palm to try and focus himself and distract his racing mind from the haphazardly organized thoughts rushing through it, Trip slowly looked away, feeling like this was just too surreal to take it seriously.  
  
"If you're so desperate to pin it on someone," The bottle-blond continued, his left hand lifting from his pocket and gesturing emptily, "why don't you look at someone more 'likely'? I know for a fact that Yoshinori has access to that shit and he's much more likely to stick his filthy paws into funds." It was obvious at this point that, from the slight cracking of his voice and the way the words spilled from his lips, he was trying to sort out his thoughts through his speech, just as much as he was trying to convince Virus of his innocence. It was ridiculous that he had to do so in the first place, to be honest, but he couldn't turn the clocks back and do something to make himself less 'suspicious', since apparently he had become as such at some point. Eventually, Trip slid his focus back onto Virus, settling on his indifferent expression.  
  
There was a taunt silence that stretched between the two and Trip couldn't tear his eyes away from Virus, who slowly began to shake his head sadly. No – no, this was bullshit! He hadn't touched any of that fucking money, and now he was going to be accused of it with no solid evidence?!  
  
"You know what, fuck this – you and I both know that I didn't touch that money. That's all that needs to be known. As far as I'm concerned, you're getting some perverse entertainment out of this... You're probably more than thrilled over the fact that my throat is out for a knife right now." Trip spat in Virus's direction, turning his eyes away and shifting his jaw. There was a quiet crunch that seemed to reverberate in his skull and he grimaced for a moment. Ah, shit, did he just chip a tooth...?  
  
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Trip." Virus provided, his tone bland and without emotion. Trip wasn't looking at him, and he was glad, otherwise he might have snapped right then and there. He was trying so damn hard to keep his cool but it was hard when the man you had been beside for a good portion of your life had the guts to accuse you of something so preposterous.  
  
"Tch..."  
  
Again, the silence drew out and Trip slowly came to the realization that this was his first time blatantly disregarding what Virus had to say. It was obvious, too – there was no way he could have hidden his displeasure in this entire situation. Granted, it was understandable, but... Trip could feel Virus's eyes on him and wondered idly what the other man was thinking. Was he trying to come up with something else to say? Some more shit to try and pin on Trip before the two parted ways?  
  
It didn't matter in the end. They were both going home to the same house, the same living room and kitchen and dining room. There was no way Trip would get time to cool off, and unless Virus thought fast for a retort, they were going to swim in silence for a long time. That was probably the most terrifying idea of all – a drawn out silence with Virus staring at Trip with such an uninvolved expression... It would drive Trip crazy in the end, he was sure of it. But, after a few minutes that felt like hours to the accused man, Virus slowly shifted, his hip jutting out for a moment before he returned to his signature stance.  
  
"I'll look into it."  
  
... and that was that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a break in between these chapters but I'm back now! 〆(・∀・＠) Sorry to all of you who thought I had abandoned this. _:(´□`」 ∠):_ Hopefully updates will be more regular now.

In the end, Trip had to go to the dentist and get a crown on one of his molars.

The grinding of his teeth during his tense confrontation with Virus wasn't the single most culprit of the injury, although it had been the reason the enamel had cracked and caused the chipping of his precious tooth. The bruxism was just something that Trip had picked up as a teenager, the dentist explained, and it had aided in this eventual outcome.

Apparently, the worst offender was the tendency Trip had to indulge in sweets – hard candy, especially. That was one of the first questions the doctor had asked Trip, immediately after the possibility of him having a tongue piercing when he was younger. The latter had been answered with an expression devoid of any sort of emotion, since the young yakuza felt it was an unnecessary question – he had chipped his tooth now. Why did it matter if he had metal in his mouth ten years ago? The former question, though, caught Trip's attention and his eyelids must have fluttered because the dentist smiled gently in response. He gave it away without having to say a single word – just the idea of his vulnerability made Trip want to squirm in the creepy chair he had been set in a few minutes ago.

Trip brushed his teeth enough – yeah, yeah, he had been lectured enough as a child that the health of his teeth was important because they stayed with him for his entire life – and he even occasionally flossed, so there wasn't decaying enamel anywhere on the tooth in question. The dentist assured him that if he were an avid lover of hard candies, though, that there needn't be any decay to formulate an issue. Simply chewing the hard material or accidentally chomping down when not paying attention was a good way to work at an individual's teeth until they became fragile pieces of dentin.

The smell of the rooms at the dentist's always made Trip frown. He wasn't necessarily worried or anticipating the worst by any means, but there was something underneath the pristine scent of cleanliness that seemed to coax an apprehension deep within his bones. It may have been some sort of deeply implanted idea that dentists were awful people who just wanted to hurt you – everyone seemed to hate dentist visits, even if they were simply check-ups – which seemed much more likely than anything else Trip's mind could come up with. Wrinkling his nose ever so slightly, Trip wandered up to the appointment desk, eyelids fluttering disinterestedly over his blue eyes as he caught the attention of an employee.

When arranging for an appointment, Trip made it clear that he would opt for a porcelain-fused-to-metal crown to avoid any unnecessary cracking of  the crown itself, in the terribly rare case that a similar situation would happen. The nurse opened her mouth, about to interrupt Trip as he spoke, but when she looked up from her computer monitor, fingers grazing the dark keys of her keyboard, something made her pause. Quickly, she glanced back to her computer and typed something into the system. After a few moments of tense silence, she asked Trip if a date was alright with him for his first appointment, and with a slight narrowing of his eyes, Trip agreed, although he didn't know why this had to be split into multiple appointments. Sounded like a scam to get more money out of people if you asked him, but he didn't protest, simply grabbing the small card the woman handed him and turning on his heel.

Thankful for at least some sort of break, Trip arrived home after his eventful visit to the dentist, pondering how Virus would react to his presence. It had been nearly two days since the older of the two men accused Trip of purloining from Morphine – it was the end of the weekend now. Somehow, Trip had managed to get an appointment at the dentist for today by calling early in the afternoon on Saturday. The woman on the other line told him they had recently had a cancellation and would be able to fit him in. His tone didn't hold as much enthusiasm as hers did, but at least she made up for his lack of excitement when he agreed to go the following day.

It didn't take Trip long to find a small box of pocky sticks he had stashed away in a cupboard and throw himself on the couch in the back corner of the living room. Once he had situated himself comfortably across the somewhat stiff piece of furniture, Trip tipped his head back and let out a heavy sigh. He felt his entire body relax with that single breath of carbon dioxide, easing him further into the cushions of the couch. Easing his eyelids over his altered eyes, his lithe fingers pinched around the paper box holding his snack and shook it lightly. _… The fuck?_

Trip opened his eyes a sliver and looked down at the box he held in his hand. Skillfully, as if he had done this one hundred times – and perhaps he had – the bottle-blond popped the box open with his thumb and glanced inside. There was hardly two thirds of the amount he had left in there from last time! Scowling deeply, Trip brought the box closer to inspect it further when he suddenly heard footsteps coming from the upper level of the house. For whatever reason, the sound was eerie and startled him, causing him to pull the box away from his face so he could peer in the direction of the stairs that led to the first floor. When nothing immediately caught his attention, he slowly slid his blue eyes back to the box.

After digging his index and middle finger into the box to draw out a stick, Trip was quick to push one end of the treat past his lips as he mulled over what could have happened to his stash of pocky. No one else was in the house besides Virus and him, and the former was obviously not a fan of sweets. Nibbling on the very tip with his central incisors, Trip exercised expert precision in biting tiny bits off of the stick. This wasn't the first time he had mulled over something while enjoying a sweet, and thus had learned quickly as a child that he would do best to make it last.

The creaking noise from upstairs came again, but this time it was closer. Trip had his eyelids lowered, attention loosely focused on the opposing wall when Virus appeared out of the shadows of the corridor, effortlessly creeping along as if he were some creature of the night designed to blend in. The movement caught Trip's eye, demanding his attention, and the young yakuza looked up, a disinterested expression painted on his face.

Normally, under most circumstances, Trip would address Virus. He was by no means a social man, but he wasn't an introvert either. When he saw his partner, he greeted him, but they were in a slightly different situation right now and Trip couldn't find a valid reason to audibly acknowledge the man capable of such malicious slander. Without moving his head an inch, Trip turned his eyes away from the sight, for fear that the image of Virus would make him sick. He had had enough of the older man two days previous – hadn't that encounter been exhausting enough for the both of them?

"How did your appointment go?" Virus drawled from the top of the stairs. Inwardly, Trip flinched. How had he known about that? Having been under no obligation to tell his partner, Trip hadn't kept it a secret, but he didn't exactly flaunt it either. With exceptionally quick thinking, especially for Trip, he concluded that Virus must have heard him discussing the time arrangement with the woman on the phone. Tch, figures.

Feeling no real desire to tell Virus anything about his day, Trip pushed the pocky stick a bit farther into his mouth, taking a larger bite out of it to combat his budding irritation. Virus stood still, his unwavering gaze still settled upon Trip's splayed body on the couch. After a minute of silence as an obvious indication that Trip wasn't interested in talking about his day, he felt the piercing gaze drop away from him. There was the quiet sound of fabric brushing against fabric as Virus shifted from his stationary position and started down the stairs.

"Did you eat my pocky?" Trip said suddenly, careful to not drop his stick from his mouth as he spoke.

"What?" The response sounded genuinely surprised – apparently Virus hadn't been expecting any sort of conversations with Trip tonight.

"My pocky, did you eat it?"

"That's absurd, why woul—," Started an incredulous retort from the top of the stairs, but Trip wasn’t about to wait for Virus's bullshit.

"Yes or no. Did you eat my pocky? I don't think it's that difficult of a question, really..." Trip drew the pocky stick into his mouth further so it was only half exposed. His lips had been pulled tight over the thin snack as their encounter drew out, the biscuit threatening to snap under the pressure he exerted over it.

Virus gave a disbelieving look from the staircase. “No, I didn’t touch your candy. I wouldn’t do such a childish thing. Satisfied?” His arms raised from his sides and crossed over his chest. Apparently he didn’t like the feeling of being accused of something. Weird.

There was a crunch as Trip snapped the pocky stick in his mouth and bit down, grinding the small particles of biscuit ever smaller between his abused molars. “No,” He said blandly, immediately trailing the audible crack of his sweet. Virus rolled his eyes and made a small sound that could have been a snort in the bottle-blond’s direction. “Something amusing?” Trip could very nearly hear the snap of Virus’s neck as he turned to glare at him. Suddenly, the architecture of the opposing wall was increasingly interesting.

Pointedly looking away from the venomous look that Virus was shooting him, Trip could only guess that the man had grown tired of their heated exchange when he no longer felt his glare. _“This is so frivolous,”_ Trip could clearly hear Virus’s voice in his head. _“Let’s get over this pointless obstacle so we can focus on our tasks.”_ The mere sound of his partner’s voice, so crystal clear in his mind, made Trip wrinkle his nose in distaste. He heard enough of Virus’s nagging without having it replicated in the back corners of his mind.

Long after Virus had climbed down the stairs and slipped out the front door to do who knew what, Trip found himself still lost in mindless thoughts. When he finally came to his senses, just a small tip of his pocky stuck out from between his lips. He looked down, the box still in his hand. Slowly, his fingers curled over the top to press it into a closed position. Trip got up from the couch to put away the box while pulling the rest of the candy into his mouth.

He wasn’t hungry anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

Trip wasn't exactly thrilled about being required to go back to work with Virus the next day.

That being said, Trip found himself around Virus less than he was on any regular day. He didn't avoid his partner, but he definitely didn't seek out the natural blond's opinion on anything that was going on. He kept to himself and worked through the emails that came up occasionally on his coil, alerting him to their presence with a short, chipper sounding beep. They were few and far between, but every time Trip heard that tone go off at his wrist, he didn't find any reason to delay leaving Morphine's headquarters for a change of scenery.

Three quarters of his work day had been completed when Trip found himself graciously blessed with a short break of sorts from his irregular appointments. Escaping from the usual hustle and bustle of the center of their organization, Trip discovered a back room that was vacant except for a desk and three unattractive chairs. One was behind the desk, with the other two facing the wooden desk, littered with battle scars. Trailing his fingers along the edge of the desk as he skirted around it to settle in the lone chair, Trip wondered when the last time this office had been in use. Judging by the very thin layer of dust that coated his fingers when he pulled them away from the furniture, he would have to guess that it had been awhile.

The chair behind the desk was less than comfortable but Trip wasn’t about to complain. He had been on his feet for a good two hours now, without any breaks between. Slouching with his arms haphazardly thrown over the armrests, Trip let out a pent up sigh, glad to feel his shoulders relax a bit. It was unlike him to feel so inhibited today, but if he had to guess, it due to his past confrontations with Virus.

At first, Trip worried that he was mulling over the situation a bit too much – after all, wouldn’t it just be good to drop it and let bygones be bygones? That thought was quickly cast aside after Trip remembered all the time he had spent with Virus. That simply couldn’t be replicated. They weren’t exactly ‘friends’ by any means, but Trip definitely felt something that was along the lines of trust for Virus. He couldn’t help but feel as if that had been all in vain… The thought disgusted him, and with a frown plastered to his face, Trip reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop. The wrapper suggested that its flavor would be cherry. Not his favorite, but it would have to do.

Popping the round candy into his mouth and twirling the stick between his fingers thoughtfully, Trip stared at the closed door that he had just came through. Occasionally, there would be a shadow that shifted from down the hallway as people came and went, but no one interrupted his precious alone time. He wasn’t so sure that he would tolerate it at this point – if someone had the audacity to bother him right now, they probably didn’t deserve a nice reminder from him.

Trip’s teeth were threatening to crack his lollipop in half by the time his coil rang loudly. “Shit,” Trip growled, forgetting he had such an annoying ringtone for calls. Who the hell needed him now? He had been running from one side of Midorijima to the other under the necessity of keeping Morphine’s current operations running smoothly for hours now. Could he get a few minutes to himself?

Jerking his hand away from his face where it had been twiddling with the stick of his lollipop, Trip tapped a button and the screen materialized before him. Virus’s name was scrawled across the blue screen with a small picture of him looking as expressionless as ever. Without giving himself time to think about what Virus could _possibly_ want this time, Trip picked up the call with a light touch of his forefinger.

“What is it?” He said flatly, swirling the candy around in his mouth. The taste felt like it was draining away with each second ticking by.

“Where are you?” Virus didn’t sound pleased, but Trip guessed that he could have sounded more vexed, so it was a stalemate of sorts.

“Does that matter…? What are you calling me for, Virus?” Trip didn’t exactly have the patience to be playing this cat and mouse game with the other man. The sooner he could get off the call, the better.

There was a long pause on the other end – so long that Trip glanced up at the upper lefthand corner of his screen to make sure that the call was, indeed, still connected. After the lengthy silence, Virus’s voice came through again. “I need to talk to you,” he started quietly, “at some point today.” Trip raised an eyebrow in response, forgetting that Virus couldn’t see his reaction to his hesitant words. He took his turn to pause for a few seconds before responding.

“Alright.” It wasn’t worth arguing over what he wanted to talk about or why it was so important that it couldn’t wait until they got home. Something told Trip that no matter how many times he asked, Virus wouldn’t tell him until they were face to face.

It felt so weird to Trip to no longer exchange pleasantries with his partner. It felt like everything and nothing was falling apart, all at the same time. After hanging up the call, his frown deepened. It felt like someone was inside of him, grasping at his organs roughly. He hadn’t ever felt anything like this before. A cold sweat broke out along his brow, and with a crack of the candy between his teeth, Trip pulled out the stick from between his lips. His hands rose to cover his face and he hunched over the desk, his mind a scattered mess.

_ What am I going to do? _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty long, but hopefully it was worth the wait! _(:3」∠)_  
>  **Warning:** This chapter has a lot of blood and violence. Please be aware of your limits prior to reading this chapter. Thank you! Enjoy~

Trip had begrudgingly found Virus near the tail end of his work day.

Actually, it was near the end for both of them – they had identical shifts nearly every day. It had been an unspoken thing between them, having it arranged that way. It was simply easier for them to wake up around the same time and go back home after a long day together. Developing a routine was a good way to get used to things, and Trip wasn’t about to complain all those years ago when they had first started planning their schedules around each other’s.

Tilting his wrist toward him so he could check the time on his coil, Trip’s blue eyes fluttered upward in a irritable sort of expression. Virus was the one who had wanted to meet and talk, so couldn’t he appear on time? Usually he was good about things like this, but it happened enough that Trip wasn’t about to get worried over something so trivial. Instead, he leaned against the brick wall, feeling his stomach twist as he remembered the last significant words that Virus had said to him: “ _I’ll look into it._ ” Still not entirely sure what the older man had meant by that, Trip couldn’t help but feel a bit of anxious anticipation that this conversation had been rooted in those parting words.

Ten minutes after they were supposed to meet – each one spent with Trip checking his coil and setting his jaw just a bit tighter – there was a quiet noise from his left that made him turn with a raised eyebrow. Trip couldn’t exactly explain what the sound was, but it sounded like someone was staggering along the concrete. His head tilted a bit – the shadows were too thick for him to see just what was coming his way until Virus’s slim figure appeared, his hands uncharacteristically at his sides.

“Trip,” Virus said in greeting, and Trip nodded stiffly in response. His hands were shoved into his pockets, shoulder blades pressed against the wall behind him as Virus walked closer to him, opting for the opposing wall. Once he had situated himself, Virus’s arms arched behind his back and he clasped his hands at the small of his back. “Let’s make this quick, shall we?”

Trip still had no idea what this even was about, so he responded with silence, his altered eyes watching Virus listlessly. After a moment of this, Virus nodded in a ‘very well’ manner, his arms seeming to tense behind him as he opened his mouth to speak.

“If I remember correctly, you said I should look at other possible suspects, did you not?” Again, Trip was silent. An extremely slight tilt of his head downward was all he offered as an answer to Virus’s redundant question. They both knew exactly what Trip had said in those moments following Virus’s ridiculous accusation. Whether or not they were the right things to say, there was nothing Trip could do to change them. Virus peered up through his light lashes and offered an ‘mmm’ before letting go of his wrist to check his coil, the blue screen casting an eerie shade of light on his face.

Virus clicked his tongue once as his fingers tapped lightly against the thin screen a few times before he found exactly what he wanted to say. “I also remember you mentioning Yoshinori’s name, so I thought I’d do you some justice and look into his possible hand in the disappearance…” Virus’s voice trailed off. He didn’t say anything else, electing to stare at something on his screen that was much more interesting than this conversation. Trip waited a minute, giving Virus the benefit of the doubt that what he was looking at was legitimately important, but soon lost patience.

“And?” He said roughly, his voice prompting for a continuation of whatever the hell Virus was trying to say.

“It was a waste of time. You’re still our main suspect.”

Apparently that was that. Trip was dazed, but... w-wait. Had he actually heard that correctly?.. Virus and whoever else was working with him on this were still looking on him with wary eyes, obviously already convinced that Trip had embezzled that money. How much had it been? Trip didn’t even know. Combatting the stupor that Virus’s words had pushed him into, he tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry, resulting in his throat convulsing painfully. He wanted to grimace but he couldn’t even manage that right now, instead bearing the pain expressionlessly. _What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck…_ Trip’s hands were shaking in his pockets, hardly visible but obvious from the way his arms shook with them. The quiet noises he made when he breathed suddenly stopped and his jaw clenched. Virus glanced up from his screen, the corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly.

“I think we should discuss your upcoming termination, Trip. That’s what I brought you here for.”

Gagging on his dry tongue, Trip gasped, his face slightly red from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. How fucking _long_ had he been with Virus? Years upon years… He couldn’t even remember when they had first met. Toue… _What the fuck, what the fu—_ What happened to that trust that Trip was sure they had formed after so long? They didn’t have to be fucking friends to have just that. Instead, here they were in a filthy back alley, discussing what was going to happen to Trip after everyone turned on him and concluded that, yes, he _had_ to be the one who had taken the money.

Virus didn’t even have the sensibility to ask Trip if he had even done it in the first place. That’s where they were at in this pseudo relationship they had formed over the years – Trip’s word meant absolutely nothing to Virus.

His heart shuddered. His stomach twisted. His face paled and became dusted with a tint of red that would have possibly been cute in any other sort of situation. His short fingernails had long begun digging into the palms of his hands, and now the shallow wounds were bleeding, smearing over his fingers as he clenched his fists harder and harder. It felt almost good to Trip – something, he was feeling _something_ now. In his haze, he had lost control of everything that had meant anything to him before. When was the last time he had taken a breath? He could feel something in the back of his mouth, a dull throbbing, but it meant nothing.

What was he supposed to do after Virus threw him out on his ass?

A quiet chuckle radiated from in front of Trip. He realized he had cast his vision downward, staring at the dirt scuffles on the ground while he frantically tried to make sense of what was going on. Looking up slowly, Trip was met with the image of Virus, a few steps closer now, with a twisted smirk on his face.

“What’s wrong, Trip? Cat got your tongue?” There was a snicker in Virus’s voice as he spoke, the corners of his mouth wrenched upward in that disgusting, shit-eating grin of sorts. The sound of Virus’s voice brought Trip back to reality, though, and as the haze over his mind cleared, it was replaced with something darker and much hotter.

“If you can’t even defend yourself, how do you exp—,”

There was an initial, dull thud that occurred when Trip threw his fist against Virus’s arrogant smirk, cutting his knuckles on his teeth when it connected with a solid impact. The second thud, a bit quieter, happened when Virus stumbled backwards, the screen of his coil blinking out and his hand jerking back to catch himself against the wall. His back hit it hard, his preventative hand doing nothing to aid in softening his fall. He was lucky, in the end, to have not cracked the back of his skull off the bricks behind him, but no matter how ‘lucky’ he was, the expression on his face didn’t seem that way. His glasses were askew on the bridge of his nose, blood accumulating on his bottom lip where it had split.

A shuddering hand raised to dab at his lip, and Trip felt absolutely nothing when he watched Virus look at his wet, red fingertips in horror.

“What the _fuck_?” Virus sputtered after he registered what had just happened, a bit of blood flecking onto his chin.

“Didn’t you just say I couldn’t defend myself?” Trip said, stepping forward to grab the collar of Virus’s suit, jerking it roughly in his left fist. His voice was eerily cold. “What now?” Raising his grazed fist, Trip brought it across Virus’s face once more, resulting in a concrete crunch. It sounded like Virus needed a crown now, too. _We can match_ , Trip thought mindlessly, drawing his arm back temporarily to look at Virus.

The blood that had started to dribble from his lip was spattered across his face, accompanying the blood spewing from Virus’s nose now. His glasses had cracked in the right lens and were laying in the dirt now, smeared with blood. There was a release in Trip after seeing what he could do to Virus with very little effort, and without thinking much of it – simply feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins like a refreshing breeze – Trip tightened his grip on Virus’s collar. In a collection of smooth, fluid motions, he came down on the older man’s face over and over, feeling the hot blood from both his fist and Virus’s face cover his hand and drip down, staining his sleeve.

“You’ve always been so arrogant—” _crunch,_ “—so bossy—” _thud,_ “—and I’ve put up with it for too long, don’t you think?” Trip’s voice shook, his sentence being punctuated with Virus’s erratic coughing fit. The blood, starting to coagulate in some places, was dripping past his upper lip and pouring into his mouth, as well as showering Trip with every strike of his fist.

Feeling as if he would vomit from how disgusting of a person Virus had become – or, rather, had always been – Trip grunted and released Virus’s collar, snaking his hand around to grasp at the hair at the back of his head. It was warm and wet, slippery beneath Trip’s hand as he took a handful of it and jerked Virus to his right, forcing the older man to abandon his footing by hooking his leg around one of Virus’s.

Trip watched dully as Virus fell onto his elbows and knees before him, just barely catching himself before he landed on his face. Immediately, Virus started to sputter and gasp for air, as if he had been holding his breath – or been unable to breathe – the entire time. Lifting his left hand to glance at what was coating Virus’s hair, Trip saw that there was blood between his fingers. Glancing down, he saw the bloodied patch on the back of Virus’s head, right where he had cracked his head against the wall earlier. Trip flexed the fingers of both of his hands with a quiet hum as he listened to Virus groan loudly, sounding congested.

“What’s wrong, Virus? Cat got your tongue?” Trip sneered, kicking Virus in the side so hard that the latter rolled over, clutching at his abdomen with a defeated moan. “Hmm?” Nudging the beaten man with the toe of his boot, Trip tilted his head slightly. Virus’s face was swollen from all of Trip’s punches, and quite a bit of the blood from his nose and mouth had trailed down his neck and left a spiderweb of crimson down into the white collar of his dress shirt.

Trip watched Virus a moment before crouching beside him, keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground to avoid losing his balance. Silently, he raised the back of his hand to his lips, licking at the blood spattered across his beaten knuckles. A small droplet of blood smeared messily across his lip, but he caught it with his tongue before it rolled off. “Mmn,” Trip hummed absent-mindedly, closing his eyes briefly. The taste of iron coated his tongue, overwhelming his senses for a fleeting moment. It was a taste that clashed erotically with the sweet taste he was so partial to. Resisting the urge to suck at his knuckles, Trip opened his eyes again, drawing his hand away from his face.

After a moment, Trip’s lithe fingers, still coated in a haphazard pattern of blood, reached out to grasp Virus’s face. “Used to be such a pretty face,” He murmured, squeezing along the older man’s jaw roughly. There was a prolonged silence again, and Trip cocked his head curiously. “Maybe we should to see check if the cat really _did_ get your tongue, huh?” The hand holding Virus’s jaw pressed even harder, slipping a bit with the blood covering his face. When Virus seemed to resist against Trip’s intentions to open his mouth, Trip laughed, releasing his hold to punch Virus again.

“If you don’t open up voluntarily, I’ll just break your jaw so you can’t resist.” The words were gruff and threatening, although Trip didn’t raise his voice. His hand had found it’s place on Virus’s face again, holding him tightly. Predictably, Virus hesitated, even under Trip’s hand. Although hard to see from the amount of inflammation in his face, his eyes were watering and coagulated blood was beginning to dry on his eyelashes. Trip could have swore he saw a broken man in those eyes. _Oh, but you don’t know what it’s like to be broken, do you?_

Slowly, the tension in Virus’s jaw was loosened regretfully, lips parting slightly from the pressure that Trip was exerting. “Ah, what a good boy. How does it feel?” Trip mused, eyes skimming down to watch how the blood was beginning to soak deeply into Virus’s shirt. When he didn’t reply, Trip looked up, his jaw tightening. Virus looked confused. “How does it feel to be someone’s bitch? I had to deal with it for years…” Trip dug his nails into the bruised flesh of Virus’s face. Slowly, he leaned forward until the wafting smell of iron was apparent from Virus. “Does it feel good to be nothing more than shit on the bottom of my boot?” He purred against Virus’s ear, the edge of his cartilage broken open and bleeding. Virus flinched at the voice so close to him, his eyes squeezing shut and forcing a single tear to roll down his beaten cheek.

“Don’t cry. I’ll check to see if that nasty cat has gotten your tongue for you now,” Trip pulled his lips away from Virus’s ear, forcing his thumb roughly against the condyle of his jaw. It must have been painful, for Virus whimpered and willingly opened his mouth, apparently more compliant now. With the faintest of smirks, Trip slid his hand along Virus’s jaw, the flesh beginning to darken from the many blood vessels that Trip had broken. Applying pressure against the rows of teeth on either side of Virus’s face, Trip ran his thumb over bruised lips, parted slightly as if pouting from this unfair treatment. Warm blood clung to this thumb from the tattered skin of Virus’s bottom lip.

A defeated look flashed over Virus’s face as Trip plunged his thumb past those swollen lips, touching against his tongue briefly before Virus flinched and pulled his tongue as far away as he possibly could. Reaching up with his other hand to hold Virus’s face steady and to keep him from biting down, Trip let his tiny smirk grow into something more significant, his thumb probing his partner’s sublingual. There was a thick mixture pooling there, consisting of what was probably one part saliva, and two parts blood. It made a slight squishing noise when Trip twitched his finger inside Virus’s mouth, slowly moving towards the natural blond’s tongue.

“Ah, here it is. It seems like the cat hasn’t quite gotten it just yet...” Stretching his fingers out for Virus’s tongue, Trip grasped it after a bit of a struggle. To make his point clear, Trip held it hard, setting his jaw in irritation at the fact that Virus _still_ had the audacity to fight against him. How close to death would he have to kick Virus to before he crumbled? Growling to himself, Trip pulled Virus’s tongue from the back of his mouth, yanking it out from between his bloodied lips. A gruff sound escaped from Virus, but it was fleeting, as if he was reluctant to give Trip the satisfaction of crying out. Trip narrowed his eyes, pulling Virus’s tongue down so he could look at it. The flesh tone was flushed from injury and irritation, blood being pumped from a gash on the right side of his tongue. Even as Trip tugged on Virus’s tongue, forcing him to relinquish control over the placement of his tongue, the blood continued to pour profusely from the wound.

“You might not want to bite down right now. It would be a damn shame if you severed your lingual artery… A quick snip of that and the floor of your mouth and your tongue would be without blood. It wouldn’t take long for you to bleed out from there on out…” Trip spoke with a slight smirk playing on his lips, his words sounding as smooth as silk but being anything but to Virus’s ears. Seeing a glob of clotted blood farther back from the laceration, Trip let go of Virus’s jaw and swiped his forefinger along the wound, putting significant pressure on it. The clump was a little smaller than Trip’s thumbnail, and with disinterest, he wiped it on Virus’s cheek, smearing it messily. “I guess you would be okay,” he started again, continuing to drag his finger across Virus’s bruised skin, “if you just injured minor blood vessels… But you’re not likely to do that if you bite through your tongue.”

Trip had been talking almost mindlessly to himself now, but when he looked to Virus’s eyes, he was presented with a confused look. It wasn’t exactly inquiring – no, Virus seemed far too fearful to be inquiring about anything – but something told Trip that his partner was curious to an extent. He tilted his head and smirked, drawing the right side of his lips up into a twisted expression of pitying amusement. “You couldn’t have possibly thought I handled people as well as I did with no knowledge of human anatomy, could you?” Trip laughed, palming Virus’s cheek with his free hand while the other pulled hard on Virus’s tongue. “You really did think I was so far below you intellectually… tch. How wrong you were, Virus… it’s disgusting… but amusing in a way.”

A deeply disturbed look flashed across Virus’s eyes when he realized just what Trip was saying. Trip relished the queer look in his partner’s eyes for a prolonged moment before he dragged his eyesight over the inflamed, discolored look of his cheeks and his split lips. A thin trail of blood was peaking over the curve of Virus’s bottom lip, threatening to spill over and down his chin. Remembering the thick taste of the blood he had sucked off of his knuckles minutes ago, Trip leaned forward, pressing his right knee to the concrete and putting pressure on it to steady himself. Closing the gap between him and his partner, Trip slowly extended his tongue, sliding it along Virus’s broken lip. Vaguely aware of the lukewarm sensation it gave him as the blood spread across his tongue, Trip drew his tongue back inside of his mouth.

An irresistible scent wafted up to his nostrils as he held himself close to Virus’s face, his eyelids fluttering shut as the metallic odor enveloped him. The blood on his tongue had already been swiped along the inside of his teeth but he felt a tenacious urge for more. As the scent engulfed Trip, the moment was completely lost – his left hand dropped to the ground to hold himself still as he pressed his parted lips to Virus’s mouth, sensing the savory liquid just past his partner’s thin lips. The pressure was gentle at first, but Trip was quick to press harder, shoving his tongue against Virus’s bloodied lips. There was hardly enough blood to sate his hunger, though, and when he wasn’t granted access into Virus’s mouth immediately, he reached around and grasped a handful of the natural blond’s hair, pulling hard. The thin strands of light-colored hair were crusty against his skin, but the feeling was lost on Trip as he yanked on it, forcing Virus’s head back.

With a groan of pain from his partner, Trip found his opportunity and pushed his tongue past the bruised lips. The taste, overwhelming pungent on Trip’s tongue, caught him by surprise. Accompanying his surprise, Trip gasped heavily through his nose, but with Virus’s mouth open, the air around the two men was heavy with the smell of iron. Feeling a heat build in the pit of his abdomen, Trip forced his tongue deeper in his partner’s mouth, coating his tongue in the thick taste of blood. Drawing his tongue back to smear the blood across his teeth, Trip opened his eyes briefly. Virus’s face was stiff – his cheeks were pulled taut over his face, his eyes wide with heavily dilated pupils. The gel in his hair had long ago been worked out and replaced with dried blood, giving him a disheveled look.

“T-Trip–” Virus attempted to speak, but his words were weak and he couldn’t form them without stuttering. His voice was slightly warped, distorted from the swelling caused by Trip’s assault. It was a curious change of pace for Virus, and Trip discovered that he liked the way Virus’s voice quivered when he was broken down like this. It was all too satisfying to hear after all the mental abuse he had been through himself.

“I like you more when you’re quiet and bleeding,” Trip muttered, eyelids low over his eyes as he leaned in again. This time, he caught Virus’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard, sliding his bottom jaw to disalign his bite in an attempt to break the skin further. A warm liquid started to seep into his mouth, filling his mouth at an agonizingly slow pace. Slowly, Trip raised his left hand from the ground, grabbing Virus’s jaw and digging his fingers into the bruised and broken flesh. He could feel the older man begin to soften – regardless if it was against his will or not – under his hands, and that was almost as pleasing as the taste of Virus’s blood on his tongue.

Pulling away with a nauseating mixture of saliva and blood connecting their mouths, Trip smirked, licking his lips languidly. “Let’s have some fun now, Virus.”


End file.
